The General
by Baliansword
Summary: A world away from Pella, Alexander watches as Hephaestion subtly evolves into his greatest general, while Hephaestion watches Alexander become the greatest king of all. Epic. Will contain A/H, warnings found in advanced chapters. Read and review!
1. 1 The Evening

**Title**: "The General"

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: T for Teen

**Chapter**: 1, "The Evening"

**Pairings**: Alexander/Hephaestion

**Summary**: Try as he might, Hephaestion cannot let the unfinished plague him. (More of a tag line, but it will work for now.)

**Warnings**: None in this chapter, yet there tends to be sexual content, language, and violence in my fictions. I'll make sure to warn each chapter in advance.

**A/N**: To begin, I pulled "Alexander IV", but I plan to finish it when my muse for that work returns to me. Secondly, this story cannot be taken as accurate. In no way have I fact-checked any detailed information.

**Dedication**: Thank you to all of my readers, especially those that have stuck by me even after my long absence.

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It was early evenly, no different than any other, but for some reason today he could feel the elements of nature clearer than he ever had before. He stood with his arms crossed over his muscled chest, staring out into the vast nothingness of the region. A soft wind blew low to the ground, causing small flecks of sand to pelt lightly against his uncovered legs. The same wind seemed a foreshadowing element as well, something would be lifted, something swept away. As his cerulean eyes scanned the tan and bronzed landscape he heard footfalls behind him, footfalls that were neither soft nor hard, yet they were distinct. Hephaestion glanced to his side, his eyes averted from the horizon for but a moment, and the corners of his lips turned up in a quick, secretive smile.

"What are you staring at," the other, younger of the two, asked. He was not like the first, at least not at the moment. While one continued to think until it gave him a headache the second stared out at the horizon and saw nothing, felt nothing. There was a pause in verse between the two as Hephaestion kept listening, feeling the world around him. The ground trembled beneath their feet, the vibrations almost unworthy of being felt, and to one of the two it was unfelt.

"They'll be coming over the horizon," Hephaestion answered after a lapse of silence. Alexander wrapped his arms over his own chest in a deliberate attempt to mock his closest friend and companion. He then nodded, his head moving ever so slightly, until Hephaestion pulled his attention away from dirt and mirage and placed it with the young king. After a moment Hephaestion turned, to leave, but a hand rested against his upper arm stilled him.

"To anticipate will only cause a restless night." Alexander spoke these words and then stared deeply into the eyes of his confidant. Hephaestion turned to face him, his body pivoted toward his seeping concern, and still said nothing. Instead he noted how bright the sun had been today, yet how dark a red-orange the orb was, burning at such intensity it today contrasted against Alexander's fair, golden hair. He then recalled how dark his eyes were, matching a carved wooden horse that sat even in this moment upon his own mantle, lonesome in a now near vacant palace in Pella. He wondered what would happen to the figurine, carved at least two summers ago by Alexander himself, if he should not return to it. What would happen should he return, but in such a case Alexander fall behind? He pushed the thought from his mind, knowing that even thinking such was not only foolish, but unwise as well.

Alexander, sensing his unease, reached up and placed his palm against Hephaestion's cheek, brushing back fallen strands of hair that had made their temporary home there. Assuredly, as if he knew what the Fates had planned, his lips then parted. "The gods plan our lives for us, Hephaestion. If tomorrow I fall in battle, it is my fate. Look at me, you are my second, should anything happen. Others know it, as does Aristotle, whose tongue will never go against you."

"We both know that there is no second for Macedonia, Alexander. The ground moves beneath us even now, Darius moving his army closer to our own, and tomorrow we shall face them. That horizon, just dirt, wind, and a joining of Mother Earth and Father Sky, tomorrow will be a blanket of Ares' pleasure, and his wrath. I do not fear it Alexander, not as others believe. In fact I feel solemn, almost indifferent to the cause itself, and then I look at you. If tomorrow you are victorious, if men stand in arms and Darius' forces are crumpled as you boast they will be, then today was nothing but a worry in my mind, one that could not last against y our powerful will –stronger than any army in these lands to Olympus. Yet if tomorrow this is a failed endeavor, then Alexander, you will never be the same. The scars gained by men tomorrow are scars upon your heart, your soul, every principle of your well-being my king, my confidant, and dearest friend. Fail tomorrow and my fear is proven right, and your spirit surely will be broken, for a lost battle for you would be the bane and likeness of death itself. Either way you cannot, and will not, succumb to death, and even should you fall you will quickly rise once more, and in such all shall be well. Should Darius himself strike you down, and if truly your heart no longer beats, and breath escapes you and your eyes are closed forever, no replacement shall be found in I. Friend to you, yes, but your second no. Without you Macedonia has no hearth for me, life no meaning or purpose. Should you fall, some cruel punishment against man sent forth by gods, shortly I would follow you, even if I must by my own hand end my life. You cannot choose a second in me, for I would be at your side, dining with Hades and recounting the battle against Darius in which we fell. Never will a second be crowned, not in name or spirit."

"I have never heard you speak like this," Alexander said, slightly saddened that Hephaestion had moved away from him, taking Alexander's last comfort with him. "Your mother was right, you were born an orator, yet save the occasion and words for only my ears."

Hephaestion slowly nodded, but managed to keep his eyes averted toward the horizon as he and the newly crowned king walked toward the camp. As they entered he lost sight of the horizon and instead focused on all that they passed. Young men sat in small circles, discussing their plans, and what they would do if they lived to see the next day. The fires seemed small, and in truth with the winds tossing the flames about they were doing little good at all. As they rounded a corner, coming nearer and nearer to Alexander's tent, Hephaestion felt himself begin to ease. This, after all, was the life of a soldier, general or king, it did not matter, eminent death was always lurking in each battle. Alexander slowed, wanting as much as the other to spend their time together, and did his best to stay clear of the topic of wars and death.

"I received another letter from my mother," the king said, producing it and handing it to Hephaestion. Hephaestion took it, glancing from the king to the parchment. He then unfolded it and scanned the words. Alexander explained as he read, "If I stay in Pella, then I am weak, and if I leave her, I have gone too far."

"She is a mother. It is their nature to worry. Besides, without you what does she have left? Her husband is dead, whether or not she misses him I do not know, and her only son is a world away from her. She grows weary, Alexander. Do not hold it against her. Write her tonight, before you retire, and send it with a courier in the morning."

"And your mother, she still sends no word to you," Alexander asked, frowning slightly. Hephaestion's mother had not spoken to him, not even in pen, for some time. While Alexander was unsure of her reasoning, he knew that it had something to do with his influence in Hephaestion's life. He was a prince, yes, but she had still never liked him. She had raised a lover, a thinker –and Alexander had created a warrior, a general.

"She has a daughter to marry off," Hephaestion said, stopping outside of Alexander's tent. He handed him the parchment back with a slight smile. "If there was nothing left, then perhaps she too would write me."

"Here," Alexander said, taking the parchment in his hand and pressing it into Hephaestion's palm. "Aristotle once warned me that all men need a mother in their life, even one they cannot stand. My mother is yours, Hephaestion. Write to her; she would appreciate hearing from you as much as she would from me. Besides, your words are more meaningful to her."

"You just don't want to write to her," Hephaestion laughed. He then went silent, knowing that now they would part. On the eve of battle they remained away from one another as to concentrate all of their energy only on the upcoming task. Hephaestion held out his free hand, expecting nothing but a slight touch, but Alexander grabbed his hand and pulled him to him, wrapping his arms around him in a warm embrace.

"May Hypnos and Aglia send Morpheus to you tonight," Alexander whispered, pressing a soft kiss against Hephaestion's cheek. "Sleep well, my love."

They parted, Alexander watching Hephaestion until he could watch no more. Sending him away had always been one of the only things he could not do. Had Hephaestion asked to say, he would have given in and let him. But what he loved most about Hephaestion was Hephaestion's will do always do what was right, even if it hurt him. Turning, he entered his tent, and prepared for a sleepless night.

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In Greek mythology **Hypnos** was the god of the spirit and sleep. **Aglia**, his wife, was a Grace, the grace of Brightness. Their son, **Morpheus**, was the Greek god of dreams.


	2. Morning Comes

**Title**: "The General"

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: T for Teen

**Chapter**: 2, "Morning Comes"

**Pairings**: Alexander/Hephaestion

**Summary**: Hephaestion has followed Alexander across the world, but when reality sets in, he watches Alexander rise to become the greatest king of all. While Hephaestion worries of where his place in Alexander's heart lies, Alexander watches as Hephaestion becomes his greatest general, but more importantly, the only one in his heart.

**Warnings**: None in this chapter, yet there tends to be sexual content, language, and violence in my fictions. I'll make sure to warn each chapter in advance.

**A/N**: Thanks to all of my readers, reviewers, you know –everyone reading this!

**Dedication**: Thank you to all of my readers, especially those that have stuck by me even after my long absence.

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The sun bore down upon the camp, and had the canvas not been as thick it would have woken many of the men up sooner. The foot soldiers were just now waking, but many others had risen with the sun as it swept over the horizon, chasing the moon away. Hephaestion, on the other hand, had long since given up on waiting for sleep to claim him. Tying his grieves, he glanced up as a few stones before him began to vibrate against the ground. Over the hills and across a few miles the Persian army was moving forward. Rising, he nudged the rocks away and turned, surveying the awakening camp. He saw many that he knew, but not the one he willed to come into sight.

"My lord," a softer voice said from behind, causing Hephaestion to turn, his heart pounding. He and Alexander had long since given their hearts to one another, yet in social circles they had to remain the same, a king to a general, and friends at most, but certainly they were not lovers. Few knew what conspired between them, and even fewer would ever dare acknowledge that they knew what the pair did together when skeptical eyes were not watching. This carrier knew nothing more than foot soldiers, setting Hephaestion at ease. Surely the messenger was unaware that is was Alexander he had been searching for. Hephaestion pulled a scroll that had been carefully tucked at his side and handed it to the youth. The youth nodded, noting where it should be delivered.

The letter securely off, Hephaestion picked up the sword impaled in the soft sand and slid it into the scabbard belted to his side. His breastplate was already secured, and strung to a leather cord was a pendant Alexander had given him years ago. The adornment had been well worn before Alexander had gifted it to him, a gift that had passed through Queen Olympias' family for years, yet it was still the only worldly possession that Hephaestion guarded. It depicted an ancient goddess handing a sword to a young boy, but apart from this Hephaestion knew nothing of the endowment. Lifting the cord, he dropped the circular pendant beneath his breastplate and chiton and then turned to the east, gazing once more off into the distance as he approached his war mount.

As he approached the stallion lifted his head and dug at the ground with his front hoof, snorting with discontent. Hephaestion reached into a small bag tied to his belt and pulled out a handful of grain, sweetened with wine and sugars. The steed greedily took the handful offered to him, and then calmed in comparison to the horses nearby. Hephaestion ran a hand over his slick bay coat, and turned to the stallion nudging his shoulder. Again reaching into the bag, he made an offering to Bucephalus, who ate his share and then went back to staring at the now bustling camp. A horn sounded, and as planned groups began to form, falling into their designated ranks. Hephaestion dropped his hand to his side and strode past his legion, giving those he passed a look of encouragement, even though he felt anxious himself.

"Get on the horse," Cleitus encouraged, pulling Hephaestion's steed in front of him. Hephaestion took the reins from the other general and then pulled himself atop the horse, turning to face Alexander as he approached. Bucephalus was brought before him, and when the gallant horse knelt, an old trick, Alexander swung his leg over and held his war helmet at his side. He scanned the gathered men, his eyes shifting amongst the ranks. They fell upon Hephaestion for a moment, warming him, and then he addressed his army.

"Don't turn back," Hephaestion heard a man amongst the ranks whispering as he held his saris. Avoiding drawing attention to himself, Hephaestion pretended to be listening to Alexander, but in truth he was listening to the youth's prayers. No, Hephaestion decided, not a youth, but his own equal in age. They were all young, to be honest, many of the elders remaining in Pella with Antipater. The youth began to recite the words over and over again, muttering all the while: do not turn back, hold the saris tight, fear not, our army is better trained. Hephaestion listened, hoping that the youth would slowly begin to calm. He had a right to worry, but too much worry caused dissatisfaction in the midst of the ranks, and if one soldier fell, soon others would follow. Tightening his grip on the reins Hephaestion suddenly felt the heat of the sun upon his shoulders, causing sweat to build at his tensed forehead. Beside him Cleitus' horse shifted its weight, causing Hephaestion to glance quickly over. His nerves were getting the better of him, even though he had faith in what they were doing here today.

"Relax," Cleitus said, slight laughter in his voice. He was quiet, but Hephaestion knew that the words were meant for him. Of course Cleitus would say such a thing, he had been in plenty of battles before and each time had returned home. Taking in a breath, Hephaestion glanced at Cleitus, who smiled back at him knowingly. "We all face this day eventually."

"Hephaestion," Alexander called out, drawing Hephaestion back to him. He pointed, his sword held firmly in his hand. There was strength in Alexander that many would envy, and Hephaestion knew it. He listened as Alexander told him to cover the left side with his men, while Alexander's men would hold the center for some time. Cleitus would take the right, along with Cassander, who both Alexander and Hephaestion did not trust, enough to lead his own cavalry, not just yet. Hephaestion gave a quick nod and then turned his horse to the side, leading his men out. Few rode behind him, but for the most part he heard the sound of foot soldiers marching on the now-hardened ground behind him. They moved into place as Alexander delegated the rest, and then the king was in front of the ranks, staring at them all. As he spoke Hephaestion could not bring himself to listen. It was not that he was not interested, but rather he could not draw his eyes away from Alexander. Were today his last day to live, he would have his last memories be of Alexander, of the man that he had become.

His eyes drifted to the ground and he watched small pebbles dance up and down on the ground. Lifting his eyes he watched as Alexander turning Bucephalus to the side, his sinewy arms tightening, the muscles rippling up his forearm and into his broad shoulders, kissed golden by the sun. His chest, now covered with an elaborate breastplate, was still well defined, even covered with the armor. His thighs were perfect, those of a warrior's, wrapped around Bucephalus with ease. Hephaestion watched him speak, though he still was not taking it all in. How many times had he kissed those now-parched lips, run his fingers over his high cheek bones, delicately tracing the lines of his face, twisted his fingers in his gold-spun hair? Hephaestion swallowed, and then raised his eyes to the sky. The shadow of the eagle had caught his attention, but seeing it made it all the better. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alexander tilt his head back as well. Perhaps the gods were on their side. Hephaestion prayed that it was the gods, not just coincidence. However, he knew that Alexander would see this purely as a message from Zeus.

"Ares, god of war, hear my plea," Hephaestion silently mouthed, knowing that the god would be near, if Alexander had taught him correctly, mythology not being his favorite subject when they were children. Alexander, on the other hand, could not be dragged away from Homeric tales of the gods. After pausing, he continued:

_Ares, God of War,_

_Hear my plea_

_For of the war now before_

_Protect those nearest me. _

_Protect my gallant king_

_As his raises his bloodied sword_

_Save what is his being,_

_Let him from this battle go forward._

_I would trade my Fate with his _

_Without fear or tears,_

_My own Fate is what it is,_

_If but to guide his spear. _

_Oh mighty Ares protect my king, _

_If this prayer at all is to your liking. _

Hephaestion gripped the reins as his horse dug at the ground, taking cue from Bucephalus, who often wore his bad habits off on other war steeds. The thundering of an amassing army startled a few of the horses, but it was the men that gulped down their fear as the first wave of the Persian army began to crawl over the horizon. It was not so many, Hephaestion would have liked to think, but in truth he knew that they were well outnumbered. The sun was behind them, he noted, staring at the shadows on the ground. _Alexander_, he smirked as his horse began to step forward, _I thought you were sleeping. _

The horns from Darius' camp began to call their soldiers into their battalions. Alexander, in turn, glanced over his shoulder at his men. They were ready, he had decided long ago. Hephaestion looked up at the sun, and memories flooded his mind. Were they his last, he would have been content with the life they had shared. He recalled a much younger Alexander chasing after him in a field, laughing all the while, as they leapt over small rushed brooks. There came a point where they met one another, tripping and falling in a tangled mass of bodies. Laughing still Alexander rolled on top of him, straddling him playfully before they knew that such touches could mean so much more.

"I win again Hephaestion," the young prince teased, brushing a lock of Hephaestion's dark hair away from his face. "Tell me that I will next conquer the world."

"You will conquer the world," Hephaestion replied now, years later, yet with the same words he'd used so long ago. Alexander had backed Bucephalus up, positioned now at Hephaestion's side. Hephaestion turned his gaze to Alexander, who was staring back at him, unworriedly in concerns of the upcoming battle. He had heard him though, that was clear enough. Alexander gave a soft smile, and then peered forward. No other words passed between them. As Darius' forces moved forward, Alexander issued the order to move forward.

Hephaestion and Alexander parted then, Alexander remaining in the off-center while Hephaestion wrapped his forces around the left. Winning this battle would give them Babylon, the city in which Alexander's dreams rested. Hephaestion thought of this as moments later the full onslaught began. Rushing forward, Hephaestion grabbed the hilt of his sword and withdrew it from the sheath at his side, its silver glinting in the sun. Persian foot soldiers, as expected, crashed in a wave against his forces, and the battle truly began. Hephaestion slammed the blade toward the ground, connecting with flesh and tissue that he could not entirely see. Slashing, he spun the horse in a circle, using its rear to knock nearby men down. As he did this he was able to see some of the Macedonian forces. Most were still fighting, but he noted that the youth that had been praying had fallen, his mouth now agape and his eyes glossing over in death. Hephaestion muttered a curse, knowing that many looked up to the boy, whom had joined them in Egypt, and his death would not be taken kindly.

Someone called his name, but he was unsure of where the call came from. There was no time to find the speaker, for a blade came crashing down upon his horse's flank. The horse jumped to the side, slamming into more Persian footmen, and the sword fell from Hephaestion's grasp. He knew that retrieving the sword would provide his safety, but he knew that getting off of the horse could be a mistake. There was a small clearing surrounding him, and in an instant he was off the horse. The stallion refused to move, surrounded by clanging swords, as Hephaestion grabbed his lost sword. As he rose he cut through a man, separating his belly, blood spraying over his face. Wiping some of the blood away, he grabbed the horse's mane and pulled himself back onto the horse. Bloodstained and as blood soaked as he was, he knew the battle would worsen before it became better.

The left was secured soon enough, and Alexander's forces had broken away from the center. This was the first time Hephaestion had found a chance to notice, and he quickly scanned the bloodied plains. He could not have fallen. He would have known if Alexander had fallen. Pausing, he turned to peer to his left, and he saw Alexander riding up beside him. As he rushed past, he called out to him.

"Hephaestion," Alexander called out, Bucephalus at a full gallop, "to Darius!"

Hephaestion watched as the Persian king began to disappear over the horizon. No, he negated, the true Persian king was now chasing after a man who had lost his confidence. Hephaestion kicked his horse into a gallop, meeting Bucephalus' strides. He glanced to Alexander, who was blood-smeared as well, and a look of insanity was crossing his features. After a moment, he pulled to a stop, his attention returning to the back phalanxes where Parmenion and his father fought. Hephaestion knew they were being overtaken, and he drew in a breath. The decision was an easy one in his mind, but he knew that Alexander longed to chase after Darius, to win the battle once and for all. However, he did what a king would do, leaving Alexander the man behind. He turned back to his troops.

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A/N: Wow, I made an attempt at a Shakespearean sonnet. Aww, that was so bold of me. cough I know, it was bad, but I get credit in my English class for that sonnet. See…I was working on my English homework….


	3. The King and the General

**Title**: "The General"

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: T for Teen

**Chapter**: 3, "The King and the General"

**Pairings**: Alexander/Hephaestion

**Summary**: Hephaestion has followed Alexander across the world, but when reality sets in, he watches Alexander rise to become the greatest king of all. While Hephaestion worries of where his place in Alexander's heart lies, Alexander watches as Hephaestion becomes his greatest general, but more importantly, the only one in his heart.

**A/N**: Just so everyone knows…that was not a sonnet.  It had no iambic pentameter, and alas, no Shakespearean sonnet. However…my teacher advised me that it was a very nice lyric poem. 

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The difference between a training scheme and a battle was simple, those that fell in battle did not live. Weapons were real now, those that just weeks before Hephaestion remembered wielding in his hand against his own men, tapping them lightly and laughing, explaining how to feign left. It had all been a game, a lesson, and now it seemed far too real. Hephaestion watched as Alexander mucked through the battlefield, throwing his bloodied hands up, screaming at the skies in vain. Had Alexander lost a mock-battle, he would have consoled him, but now, here, he knew that his words were nothing. Hephaestion continued to watch him, and then turned away. As he too walked amongst the dead he thought of nothing, knowing for the first time in his life that he could undo nothing, make nothing here better. For what seemed like hours he walked amongst them, the forsaken, some the forgotten, looking for something, yet he knew not what it was. He would stop from time to time, imagining that he saw a youth breathing, that he saw his hand twitch, but each time was sorely disappointed to find that there was no twitch, no breathing, no feigning pleads for help. He searched and searched, mulling through twisted bodies, gaping wounds and gashes.

There came a bend in the battlefield, where the only true life remained, a small oasis of desert trees, their verdant leaves spilling over. As he approached he heard muffled voices, and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, edging closer at a slower rate. He understood them as instantly as he saw them, the youths from Egypt, close friends to the boy who had been praying just before the battle. Hephaestion released his grip on the sword, and it was then that they saw him. One of the young men had tear stains down his cheeks and blood on his hands. Hephaestion reached out instinctively, taking his hands and turning them over, searching for a wound. He was not injured though, as Hephaestion noted when he saw a bloodied leg sticking out from beneath the haven of the giant grasses.

"He is dead my lord," he cried, his fingers twining themselves in Hephaestion's bloodstained chiton. Hephaestion let the man cling to him for a moment, but his attention then turned to the body. He felt the other release him, and he found himself kneeling before Amune, the youth who had prayed. His friends stood by him, even now, but Hephaestion could not see how Amune had gotten this far from the battle. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the smeared blood on Haraa's bare chest. Haraa was Amune's closest friend –often being sneered at by Cassander, who compared them to Alexander and Hephaestion on many an occasion.

"Why were you moving him," Hephaestion asked, standing and looking away from the body. Haraa glanced at the dirt, kicking away a few pebbles with his toe. Already it was clear that Haraa was not going to answer, but Hephaestion glanced to Bjelk, who knew well enough that to be on Hephaestion's bad side was to go against Alexander himself. He swallowed, but then, as Hephaestion knew he would, answered.

"He cannot be burned with the others," Bjelk slowly stated, his voice faltering toward the end. His hands fidgeted as he wrung them nervously together, but still he elaborated. "It is not our culture to be burned, but to be buried. Amune must be buried Lord Amyntor. Please, do not question, but understand, and say not to Alexander."

"Others have fallen to the heat," Hephaestion countered. He did not like the way this sounded, for a moment realizing that others had fallen, but he should not use their fates as an example now. While he wished he could take it back, not think in such a way, but he knew that it must be said. "They were burned."

"And shall not go to the gods," Haraa fired back, anger clearly part of his venom, but Hephaestion recognized his defense as fear. He had often feared for Alexander in such a way. There had been plenty of times when, in youth, he had protected Alexander from others, lashing out at them to draw attention away from the young prince. Alexander had often scolded him later about it, yet it was something that he soon learned could not be helped. "Amune is to be buried if he is to reside beside Rah, his father. Do you not understand?"

Hephaestion was not completely aware of their religion, but he knew well enough who Rah was. He was the god, deemed responsible for selecting kings to represent him on earth. When Alexander had founded Alexandria, he had also been given the honor of being immortal, given to kings by Rah. Hephaestion looked from Bjelk, worry furrowing his brows together, to Amune, and back to Haraa, who perhaps was his closest protector. Royalty in Egypt always had a royal escort, even in battle.

"Rumor reached Alexander that a young prince had followed us to battle," Hephaestion said, smirking ever so slightly at Haraa. "Tell me, did you bring the sacred jars for your king's burial?"

"Of course we did," Haraa spat before stopping himself. Realizing that he had given their identities away, he said something in their tongue, and then turned his back to Hephaestion. Bjelk seemed to nod, glancing at Hephaestion.

"You must attend, knowing him now, but we must ask for you to leave us until tonight. Amune must be buried here, you see?"

Hephaestion did not reply, for someone else had caught his eye. He left the Egyptians to their meditations, quickening his steps in order to reach Alexander before he came too close. They met far enough away from the oasis that Hephaestion knew Alexander was unaware of Amune's absence, of anything truly, but of him. Hephaestion reached out, placing his hand on Alexander's cheek, wiping flaking blood away. Uncaring of any that might see Alexander wrapped his arms around Hephaestion, placing his chin in the crook of Hephaestion's neck, his hands pulling Hephaestion even closer. Hephaestion eased at the touch, Alexander's hand on the back of his head, molding him against him. He would have remained like this for ages; forget Persia, to be in love was better than any golden city. Slowly Alexander pulled away, tears burning in his eyes, and brushed a lock of Hephaestion's hair away from his forehead, which had a nicely sized bruise forming at the far corner of his left eye. Alexander leaned in, placing a quick kiss against the injury, and then to Hephaestion's lips.

"I searched for life amongst them," Alexander quivered, "hoping that I could save but one, yet they are dead. Each time I came across them, I saw your face Hephaestion."

"Alexander," Hephaestion warned, placing his hands on Alexander's shoulders, meeting his gaze with his own, which was steadier. "We both knew what was to be. Fate spins her threads, and today she cut them with the help of Ares. Alexander, you must be strong, for if you are weak, we are all weak. Hold in your heart that I am fine."

"I go now to tend to the wounded," the king explained, wrapping his hand in Hephaestion's, gripping him tightly. Hephaestion nodded, not needing words, and when Alexander released his hand he followed him. Only once did he glance over his shoulder, half expecting to see Bjelk or Haraa, but he saw neither. As he turned back he said a silent prayer for them all, one in death, the others in mourning. But these thoughts, these wishes of well-being, were soon pushed away from his mind as he heard gut-wrenching pleads of pain. Drawing in a breath he focused on those that suddenly seemed to create a sea around him. Someone reached out, grabbing his thigh, and he froze, causing Alexander to freeze in front of him.

"Shh," Hephaestion whispered, kneeling down before the young man. He was too young, not more than fifteen; he was not old enough to join ranks, and Hephaestion knew that he must have sneaked into the regiment. A brutal gash covered half of his face, cutting through his right eye, but that wasn't the worst of the injuries he had sustained. As he glanced down he saw the tear in his gut, a tear from which bloodied insides were flowing out. Hephaestion held back the urge to vomit, and instead looked up, searching desperately with his eyes for a medic. He was too young, too young to die here.

"Get him a medic," Hephaestion said over his shoulder, to Alexander, who appeared just as lost in the chaos as he was. Slowly Alexander shook his head, trying to convey what any medic would tell them. This was no ailment that could be cured. Besides, the physicians were working with limited supplies, and they would hence only be willing to use them on those that had a chance of living throughout a night. Alexander shook his head once more, and Hephaestion began to gnaw on his lower lip. He then turned back to the boy and leaned closer, placing a hand on his forehead, brushing locks of curling blond hair away.

"My mother," the soldier repeated over and over, his voice faint, but his thoughts clear enough. "My mother, must go home...mother...gone...help me…"

"The physician is on his way," he lied, feeling a pang of guilt as he did so. The boy did not seem to acknowledge what was going on around him; already Hephaestion knew that his eyes were glossing over, death taking over his body slowly. The boy began to gasp, and Hephaestion pushed his shoulders back onto the pallet as he lurched upward. His body jerked for a moment, blood pooling in his mouth until it spilt over at the corner. He coughed, spraying Hephaestion's cheek with spittle, but he then collapsed once more, and he would not move again.

Alexander reached forward and placed a hand on Hephaestion's shoulder. Hesitating for a brief moment, he then pulled Hephaestion back, desperate to draw attention away from the dead child. Hephaestion stood instantly, shaking his head, but he moved on to the next disturbing image of war. Men lay on pallets, some on the ground, all around them, and Alexander knew well enough that Hephaestion was going to stop beside each man. There were men with severed limbs, those without eyes, and many with gashes. However, it was Alexander who came to one of the worst, and he began to realize why it was Hephaestion found the need to comfort them.

"Agh," the warrior screamed as he writhed on the ground. Alexander dropped to a knee and steadied him. Only when he understood that the king was in his presence did he try to calm his writhing, his screaming, but his lower lip, and most of his body, still trembled.

"What is your name," Alexander asked, trying dreadfully to keep his voice unruffled, as Hephaestion's had been. He wiped blood away from the corner of his mouth, and tried to avoid his appearance. It was not his fault that he looked like a horror from a nightmare, Alexander reminded himself. Both eyes had been sunken in, along with the rest of his forehead, and Alexander knew it a wonder that he was alive even now. His jaw twitched, and then he uttered something that Alexander could not understand. Alexander said nothing, but leaned in further. Would this be a fate more would suffer? If it were, he would reconsider this perhaps, and as he caught sight of Hephaestion moving off to his left, he knew that if he thought of Hephaestion, lying in this state, he would make a deal to turn back time, and never leave Pella.

The physicians came to this one. Unlike the others he was a true survivor, one that would refuse to give up. It was clear to all, however, that he would not make it through the night, not like this. The pain would only continue to worsen, and in the end, it would all be in vain. Silently, the medic placed a small spike at the base of the boy's neck, and with a swift blow ended his misery. Alexander's hands fell away and he stood, quickly moving on to the next. He was not Hephaestion though, and soon found that he was doing little to help these fallen men. He sulked away, needing to tend to other matters, leaving Hephaestion without a word. Hephaestion did not seem to notice, he had found his place on the field of battle. A gifted soldier, yes, but he was truly meant to soothe the spirits, to speak to those that had lost hope. Before long he was assisting physicians, holding bandages, tightening sticks that held bones together, placing patches over gaping wounds and applying pressure. When he finally looked up he noted Alexander's absence, the absence of many of the generals, yet he turned back to bandaging the leg of a phalanx soldier.

"You are General Amyntor," the bandage soldier asked, his eyebrows raising as he gritted his teeth in pain. Hephaestion completed the knot, concentrating on how tight the gauze was around the leg. Pressure was needed, but he did not want to be the cause of a deadened leg, even though the man might have preferred this in comparison to the pain he was feeling.

"Hephaestion," he answered, wrapping another strip of cloth around the soldier's ankle, where most of the impact had occurred, shattering his ankle entirely, if not also his foot. The man bit down, seething, and then spat blood. It was not deadly, Hephaestion decided, but instead just blood and sand from the battle. It was odd, to be tending to a man many years his senior. He was new to battle, should he not be where this man lay?

"Tell the king he has my confidence."

"I would need a name," Hephaestion said. To this he received an answer, that this man before him was Eracus, who had joined them in Greece. He did not take on the stance of an Athenian, but instead he looked more like a Spartan. It was unlikely, still, that he was of the noble ancestry. The Spartans chose, for the most part, to deal with their own lands. Alexander's verve had not impressed them, or so they had last proclaimed.

"And will I walk again, Hephaestion?"

"I am not a physician," was the only reply he could think of. Who was he to take away this man's leg? He tightened the last bandage and then pushed himself up, ready to move on to the next man that needed him. "Be well, Eracus, and I will take your message to the king."

Hephaestion went on, spending time here and there, and finally he came to a man he knew quite well. The man was perched on a log, holding a torn piece of his chiton to his shoulder. Hephaestion reached out, pushing the cloth away, and revealed an angry red gash, made by a sharpened Persian sword. Hephaestion lifted a skin of water from his side, pouring some on the wound, and then wrapped a piece of gauze around the taunt skin. For a moment he believed that the flaking blood on his face, and his matted hair tied behind his shoulders, had hidden him from the other. Yet Cassander was no fool, and as Hephaestion rose he scoffed.

"Nursing the army back to help," he jeered. It was not surprising for Hephaestion. Cassander was often mocking him, calling him things that he at times could not understand they were so crude. Hephaestion laughed, despite the traumas that surrounded them, for he could not help but feel sorry for Cassander, who would always be bitter, would always be as he was now.

"If you're going to kill something," he stated, "you should be able to mend something. Don't you think?"

"I think perhaps you hit your head," Cassander said as he stood and strode away. Hephaestion turned, and too went his own way, to the next pleading soul that beckoned him.


	4. Solemn Feasts and Burials

**Title**: "The General"

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: T for Teen

**Chapter**: 4, "Solemn Feasts and Burials"

**Pairings**: Alexander/Hephaestion

**Summary**: Hephaestion has followed Alexander across the world, but when reality sets in, he watches Alexander rise to become the greatest king of all. While Hephaestion worries of where his place in Alexander's heart lies, Alexander watches as Hephaestion becomes his greatest general, but more importantly, the only one in his heart.

**Warning**: Sexual content at the end of this chapter. It is not very graphic, its more of a teaser for upcoming chapters.

**A/N**: Thanks everyone for the R&R, it is appreciated. Let me know what you think of this coming chapter. And JESSICA, I adore you, and I know you don't want to read the ending, you know, when they get to the tent…you won't like all of the love session.

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Alexander watched as the sun sunk beneath the horizon, his eyes lifting momentarily from the papers he was reading over. He signed the next order for more supplies, and then set the pen down, cracking his fingers as he did so. To be a king, he had decided hours ago, was like being different men. He had gone from mourning fallen friends to signing treaties, acting as if nothing at all had happened. It shocked him, that he would have to play such different roles, yet what truly scared him was the fact that he could so easily fall into the next king's position and mindset. As he set the pen down he heard the crunching of sand as Hephaestion approached, entering the temporary tent silently, his splendor awe-inspiring. Alexander offered a slight grin, but could not force more, his feelings a mixture of pain and confusion, but also he was please, feeling accomplished, having at least won the battle.

"I brought you some wine," Hephaestion announced, setting the cup down before Alexander, who gratefully accepted, drinking slowly. Hephaestion then sat, glancing at the paperwork on the table, but he soon lost interest and stared at only Alexander. Concern slowly crept across his brow, and he began questioning, though he did not mean to, "Are you alright?"

"Tired," Alexander replied, rising and wrapping his arms around Hephaestion, holding him in a tight embrace. He pressed a soft kiss against Hephaestion's shoulder, his fingers twining in the dark tresses at the nape of his neck. Though he had found the time to wash the blood and dirt away, he still smelled somewhat of sweat and the desert sun, yet there was always that musk that belonged to Hephaestion, and Hephaestion alone, that Alexander took pleasure in. Leaning against him, he reached out, placing a hand underneath Hephaestion's chin, turning his face sideways so that he could easily crane his neck, placing a deep kiss upon his lips. Hephaestion's lips parted, and he reached up with a hand, placing his palm against Alexander's cheek. They lingered for a moment, but at the slightest stirring of sound outside of the tent Hephaestion pulled away, and luckily enough it was just before Parmenion and Cleitus entered, both of whom were unaware of Alexander's deeper love for Hephaestion.

"Alexander," Parmenion chuckled, throwing his arms around him in a quick, and less meaningful, embrace. He shook Alexander then as if he were still a boy, forgetting his place as a general, and laughed again. "Here is a victory under your belt, and tomorrow we begin marching to Babylon I hear, is such a feat already true?"

"Tomorrow," Alexander reassured him, clearly not in the mood for jovial politenesses of a king to his general. Instead he was almost ushering them away, wanting to be alone with Hephaestion. "I will see you in the morning Parmenion, Cleitus, and to you both I thank you for your support. For the rest of the night, I have one matter to tend to, and then I retire early."

"Nonsense," Cleitus replied, slapping Alexander on the back. "A celebration is in order, a feast in your honor. Come Alexander, now is not the time for sleep. Already the campfires are lit, and a pig is being roasted in your honor."

Alexander looked apologetically over his shoulder at Hephaestion, who was suppressing his own smile, knowing the feeling that was overtaking Alexander. He rose and went to Alexander's side. Now would be as good a time as any to let Alexander know that he would be absent for most of the festivities. He carefully placed his hand on his elbow, not wanting the other two to becomes suspicious, and Alexander froze. He motioned for his other generals to go ahead, and then turned to Hephaestion, quickly brushing his lips against his, wanting desperately to hold him closer.

"There is something I need to finish," Hephaestion laughed slightly, gently pushing Alexander away, even though he would not have dared do such a thing on normal circumstances. He brushed his lips lightly against Alexander's brow and then released him. Alexander had already begun shaking his head.

"What could be more important than celebrating our victory," Alexander asked, completely unsure of what was happening. "Hephaestion, is something wrong? Are you not well?"

"I'm fine," was his reply, brought forth on another swift kiss. "Enjoy the festivities, they are for you. I will attend to some business, and then I'll join you, I promise."

Alexander was not given much time to respond, if Hephaestion tried to give him any. Releasing Alexander, he brushed past him, leaving the tent, which suddenly seemed a bit lonelier, if not merely colder. Alexander drew in a breath, letting it out as he followed Hephaestion's footsteps, but unlike Hephaestion he was greeted by plenty of generals and soldiers. Praise came from them all, which interested him, because were there any that would go against him? He wondered if the dead, or those wounded, felt the way that the praise givers did. Meanwhile, he had no idea where Hephaestion had wandered to.

Hephaestion, walking across the desert sands, knew that it was better if Alexander were unaware of where he was going. The last thing that he needed today was Alexander fretting over a dead prince. Besides, the king did not need to know. What was done was done, and now it would be finished forever, and Alexander could stop worrying, instead he could celebrate for a few minutes of the night. Silence lingered as he came upon the oasis, and after glancing back, just in case he were being followed, he pushed through a section of large grass and paused. Standing in a circle around their fallen prince were the others, who instantly turned their gaze to him. Yet they eased when they realized who it was, and he came closer, stopping before them.

"What are you doing?"

"What must be done," Haraa answered, picking a knife up in the process. Hephaestion's mind was already ahead of him, anticipating what was going to happen next, but he still flinched when the knife slid into Amune's skin. Haraa worked expertly, cutting and then peeling back a slab of skin, and Hephaestion nearly wretched as the heart was pulled from Amune's body. It was then placed in a jar, and before he knew what he was doing, Hephaestion was holding the jar close to his chest. It seemed to go by in a blur, the cutting and removal of organs, but the worst was still to come.

"This goes up the nose," Bjelk explained as he began to heat the poker in the small fire Haraa had started. He drew it out, testing it with the tip of his finger, and then began to ignite the metal again. "Everything is then, what is the word, everything is mixed, and the brain is pulled out."

"Don't make him faint," Haraa smirked as he pulled a flap of skin shut and sprinkled salts over the wounds. Hephaestion clutched the jar in his hands and averted his eyes, unsure if he needed to say any more. Haraa came closer, taking the poker from Bjelk, and then immediately shoved the pike up Amune's nose. Hephaestion found that he could not look away, though he was slightly disgusted by the scene laid out before him. Once the rod was inserted, Haraa twisted it, and then began to pull out a noxious gray matter. Hephaestion turned away, taking a seat on a log by the fire. Bjelk peeked over at him but soon again was unwrapping gauze, which they had started wrapping around Amune's salted body.

"This would be an honor to many," Haraa avowed. He then set the newest jar, the brains, down and helped with the wrapping. Hephaestion set his own urn down and came to help, feeling it was the least that he could do. According to their culture, those that saw the body of the dead king must watch this ceremony, and in such it would assure that he met his gods. Perhaps this was what a general was, someone that could represent Alexander, but also Egypt, in a case like this. He continued to think of this as they finished their job, wrapping layer after layer over Amune until he was unrecognizable.

"And now we burry him," Bjelk explained as the men lifted the king and began to place him into a deep grave. Hephaestion had long ago decided that to be burned was his fate, whether he die in war, or years later. He had not though much about the ways of other cultures' death, but he knew now that he did not want his brains pulled out his nose. There was something odd about having your friends rip out your organs as well, something he knew would not be for him. It would be bad enough if he were to die, but if Alexander had to take his heart, then it would be even worse. He knew Alexander –he would keep his heart forever, even when it was ash in a jar –and he did not want someone holding onto him in such a way. Memories would be suitable.

"You don't worry about the elements," Hephaestion asked, pushing mounds of dirt over the body, feeling dirt beneath his nails. For some reason he liked the feeling of wet soil, missing it. But after a moment he remembered exactly what he was doing, burying someone that should not have been on the field. He could have been a regent king, but instead, this was what it had come to.

"He will be fine," Haraa assured Hephaestion, once more staring at him momentarily. They were alike, he knew, but not alike enough for him to necessarily like him, or appreciate his help.

When all was done, Hephaestion found himself walking away, and appreciating Alexander all the more. He appreciated life more, he supposed. After a few minutes he reached the celebration, and admittedly Darius could have spotted it from miles away. The fires were large, too large for comfort, but Hephaestion had to smile. It was like Alexander to be the life of any party, but as he approached he noted that Alexander sat in near silence, watching those around him tell stoic jokes. Taking the opportunity, he came up behind Alexander and wrapped his arms around him, seeing that the drunkards around them would not notice.

"This celebration seems solemn," Hephaestion whispered, his lips lightly dancing across Alexander's cheek. Alexander seemed to awaken from a slumber, and he smiled, placing his hand over Hephaestion's cheek nearest him.

"If I were not here," he stated, "I do not believe they would notice. Celebrations are excuses for my entire army to become drunk. If Darius were not such a coward, they would attack us now."

"No," Hephaestion negated. "I made sure to check the horizon, and I see nothing."

Alexander raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more. Instead he stood, taking Hephaestion's hand in his own, and led him away from the festivities. As predicted, no one seemed to notice. They were wrapped up in talk of war, of home, of anything that would possibly soothe them, keeping their thoughts away from those that had died, or those that slept in pain. Alexander admitted to himself that he too was guilty of shoving them aside, wanting nothing more than to be with Hephaestion, for that in itself was life. It was not long before they reached the tent, for which they were both grateful, but it was Alexander that could not contain himself.

He reached for Hephaestion, drawing him near by wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him against him. They molded together as if they had been created to fit one another, two pieces of one puzzle. Alexander kissed Hephaestion deeply, his tongue hungrily slid against Hephaestion's lower lip, and after a moment of teasing Hephaestion bade him entrance. Alexander took everything in, every taste, every touch as Hephaestion ran his hands up his back, removing his chiton with expertise. Their clothing was soon on the ground, and Alexander had pushed Hephaestion onto a pallet of furs. Kisses turned to making love, and after both lay spent, enveloped in one another, molded in perfection, Alexander's back to Hephaestion's chest.

"I won't lose you," Alexander whispered, kissing the back of Hephaestion's hand. For the first time he noticed the dark soil beneath his fingers, and he paused, running his own fingers over his fingers. "Where were you earlier?"

"It's a long story," Hephaestion replied, and though he did not move his hand away, he wanted to. Alexander was relentless, and he knew that eventually it would lead to a fight if he did not say something now. But was he to place the burden of a prince, or king's, death upon his shoulders?

"I love only you," Hephaestion said instead, and with that, Alexander released his hand.

"And I love you," was Alexander's whispered reply as they drifted off to sleep.

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A/N: Yipee, now you get to review. Have fun!


	5. Babylon

**Title**: "The General"

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: T for Teen

**Chapter**: 5, "Babylon"

**Pairings**: Alexander/Hephaestion

**Summary**: Hephaestion has followed Alexander across the world, but when reality sets in, he watches Alexander rise to become the greatest king of all. While Hephaestion worries of where his place in Alexander's heart lies, Alexander watches as Hephaestion becomes his greatest general, but more importantly, the only one in his heart.

**Warning**: Sexual content, again, but a bit more rated Mature this time.

**A/N**: Thanks everyone for the R&R, it is appreciated. I adore that JESSICA skips over the Alexander-Hephaestion fluff (don't worry, I'm breaking her in). JESSICA, seriously, don't read the middle of this post, you'll know what I'm talking about when you start reading it. Never mind, JESSICA, just read everything (you know deep down you like it).

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He could not have imagined a better view, not if all the Muses of the gods had entered his dreams and given him the image itself. The large columns of the gate into the city gleamed in the light of the sun, their etchings and carvings of expert skill rivaling perhaps the Greeks. Each column had vines of verdant scaling them, flowers budding, and large birds perched in such vines, singing songs Alexander and his men had never heard before. Bucephalus did not seem to mind the petals that were thrown around him as he pranced through these gates, nor the shouts and screams, the cooing of odd animals, the growls from tigers and bears that were brought forth in cages, offered to the Sun-King as many were already calling him –due to his golden hair, which was almost unheard of in the city.

Alexander pulled tight on his reins in attempt to slow Bucephalus down, in order to keep pace with Hephaestion, who was atop a slower mount, but all attempts were in vain. After a moment Hephaestion caught up, only to survey the crowd for a few moments, Alexander's constant protector, but he then dropped back again. Alexander missed his company, for he felt that that Hephaestion should reap in the rewards with him, but at the same time he knew where Hephaestion stood on such things. Many times he had told him the same line, "You are king before them, Alexander; I would rather stand in your shadow than create two persons in the kingship."

As they reached the palace Alexander finally drew Bucephalus to a stop, and within moments he was practically leaping up the stairway and into the palace, which was just as extravagant as the gateway. Alexander stopped, turning in a full circle with his mouth agape, taking everything in. When the shock subsided, he glanced to Hephaestion, who stood near a column, writing something on a piece of parchment, which he then handed to a scribe of Egyptian descent, who rushed away with the note. Hephaestion did not seem to notice that Alexander was staring at him, and Alexander soon looked away, traveling further into the wondrous palace.

When next he looked back Hephaestion was gone, but to where he knew not. Perhaps he had taken a wrong turn, or perchance he was still there, just farther in the back, where he still could not see him. Alexander threw himself down on an elaborate bed, and gazed up at the ceiling, which in itself was also amazing, painted with a depiction of famous Persian icons. Waiting, he finally caught a glimpse of Hephaestion re-entering the room. He seemed frazzled, stressed slightly, and Alexander could not help but smile. How many times had he told him to calm down, that things would be fine?

"For all our pain," Seleucus announced, "I would give more, if for these beauties."

Alexander would not mention now that he agreed, for after all, the pain of those in pain was not his to give away. Alexander smiled slightly, and then pushed himself off of the bed, following the next set of stairs down another lustrous hall. As he reached the end his steps slowed, the harem now visible to them all. Quickly looking over his shoulder, he caught sight of Hephaestion, who had wrapped his arms over his chest. He continued though, stepping past ferns and women that reached out, longing to touch him. Alexander could not blame them; if he were a woman of the harem he too would try to latch on to the handsomest man of the bunch. Hephaestion averted his eyes and continued, stepping past them as if he did not notice. Perchance they did not understand that Hephaestion's heart belonged to only one, and that was the king. But he did not have to explain himself, for a group of newly arrived guests strode into the room, one male escort, and a highly decorated woman, surrounded by lesser youths. Alexander watched as the queen prostrated herself before Hephaestion, then arose before him, folding her hands together.

"King Alexander," she began to plead, though one would not note it in her voice, "I come to plead the…"

Alexander listened to the snickers of the generals, who knew well enough that the queen was pleading her case to the wrong man. The one at her side motioned with his head to Alexander, and she flushed. Hephaestion said nothing, merely continued to gnaw at his lower lip. Alexander smiled, and as he did she flushed again, fear flashing in her eyes.

"You are not wrong," he assured her. "He, too, is Alexander."

"Noble Alexander," she began again, not taking any time to let the fear creep into her body. "I come to plead for the lives of my sisters, of my family."

"Princess," he cut her off, "tell me, how is it you want to be treated?"

"As I am," was her response. "A princess."

Alexander told her then that it would be so, and Hephaestion could not contain a smile. He was true to his word, Alexander, and she would be a princess. She was free to live the rest of her life out here, in the palace she had grown up in, and there was a comfort in that, even for Hephaestion_. If you are willing to kill something_, he recalled saying, _you must be able to mend something_. Well, Alexander was beginning to do just that. Yes, he had dethroned the king, but not his princesses, not his harem, not his servants, and certainly not his people. It was then that Bagoas was brought in, a young eunuch with draping raven locks and startling brown eyes. Hephaestion said nothing, but his stance immediately changed. He shifted onto his opposite foot and watched as Alexander looked the boy over, he moved away, but Hephaestion saw the glimmer in Alexander's eyes, the way his fingers lingered ever so slightly on Bagoas' forearm.

"Hephaestion," the messenger at his side said, drawing him back to attention. Hephaestion glanced over at him and took the message that was in his hand. He unrolled it quickly and then read over the words. Cursing under his breath he shook his head and then shooed the messenger away with a hand. Alexander was looking at him, approaching, when the messenger left. The scroll, still firmly placed in his hand, was not something Alexander needed to be concerned with, not now. He shoved the scroll in his belt and then grinned as Alexander stopped before him. The others were already filing out of the room, claiming that the first one to the bathing rooms would bathe first, and they argued over rooms they had already seen, who would reside where was an unanswered question, and they might as well act like children and run for the rooms now.

"You're first down the hall from me," Alexander stated, referring to such lodging arrangements. Feeling secure enough with only the women of the harem around, and Hephaestion noted Bagoas, he reached up, placing his palm against Hephaestion's cheek. "I would have it no other way."

"I am yours always," Hephaestion replied, brushing locks of blond hair away from Alexander's forehead. He knew that he should tell him, and soon. He needed to explain to him, try to reason with him, do anything but what he was about to do. Yet though he knew what would be wisest to do, he could not bring himself to hand the scroll to Alexander. It was not his burden. Or was it? He was, after all, king, and it had originally been dispatched to him.

"What is it," Alexander asked, noting Hephaestion's stiffness. Hephaestion glanced up, cerulean eyes hiding something, but not even Alexander was willing to ask what. At least, he was not willing to ask at the moment. He was already uneasy about the dirt under his nails from the night before, wet dirt, newly turned dirt, but he could not think what he wanted to.

"Just a letter, from your mother," Hephaestion replied. It was not a complete lie, for he had received her reply hours earlier, before they had reached Babylon. He would have told Alexander then, but it was meant for his eyes. Eventually the letter would wind up on Alexander's pillow, with no explanation, but only after he spent hours figuring out how to respond to her message, how to soothe her troubled heart, the heart of a mother. Still, the letter he hid now was not Olympias' letter, but another, from a satrap in Egypt, who demanded to know what had happened to Amune, a prince.

"What could she complain about now," Alexander asked, choosing to believe him. He turned and threw his hands up at the sight of the harem. "We have conquered Persia, and I am sure she will still whine about how I, her only son, neglect her. What am I supposed to say Hephaestion? Half of the time I have you writing her, the other no return is given, and if it is it avoids any of her ranting, any of her questions."

"She wrote it to me, Alexander."

"Fortunate," the king laughed, facing away from Hephaestion. For so long he had wished her to let him be, to let him do as he would by himself, but the moment he had it, he did not want her to be out of his life. Turning back to Hephaestion, he held out a hand, and Hephaestion boldly placed his hand in Alexander's. Alexander took his hand, and then proceeded to lead them both down the hallway, until they stood before Alexander's chambers. Hephaestion would spend most of his time here anyhow, so he might as well become acquainted with the rooms now. Hephaestion had gawked as much as Alexander, as much as any other not accustomed to so much valorous wealth. As Alexander spread out on the bed Hephaestion stared up at the ceiling, then moved toward a large blue and gold parrot in an iron cage. The bird cocked its head, whistled, but then walked away, finding interest instead in a dish of large seeds.

"I would not have left it so easily, if I were Darius," Alexander stated, running a hand through his blond hair. He patted the space beside him and Hephaestion drew near, but did not sit. Instead he remained just out of reach. Alexander continued to admire him, he was absolutely breathtaking. Aphrodite had done well to train him, Hephaestus carving him out of bronze and gold for him.

"We have nothing left to do this afternoon."

"You have nothing left to do this afternoon," Hephaestion corrected. "I, on the other hand, have something to attend to. I'll be back, soon, I promise."

"Don't leave me tonight," he beseeched of him. Hephaestion shook his head slightly, and then rolled his eyes, falling onto the bed beside Alexander. Alexander propped himself up on an elbow and ran the tips of his fingers over the curve of Hephaestion's jaw, then leaned closer, placing his lips lightly against Hephaestion's. Hephaestion placed a hand on the back of Alexander's neck, pressing him to him, and then pushed Alexander gently back, elevating them both. His fingers traced Alexander's shoulders, and he slowly began removing his breastplate. When the armor was gone, his fingers lingered over his shoulders, and the cloth proved a painful barrier between them both. Alexander pushed Hephaestion's breastplate away, using far less technique, but Hephaestion had never complained. The breastplate clattered to the floor and Alexander began working on the persistent chiton.

Hephaestion was far better at making every touch intentional, calculating which finger to press against Alexander's skin with as he adroitly lowered the thin material. His lips trailed to Alexander's neck, where he nudged against him, kissing warmly over him. Alexander gasped faintly as Hephaestion brought his mouth over his nipple, suckling generously. Alexander wrapped his arms around Hephaestion's waist, pulling the chiton over his head, and then demanded entrance to his mouth. Their tongues battled for dominance, and as usual Hephaestion gave way to Alexander's desires. Each touch brought fire to Alexander's loins, and he knew well enough that Hephaestion wanted to tempt him, to taunt him. After a moment of kissing, Hephaestion placed a hand against Alexander's chest and pushed him down, so that his back was against the lush pillows.

Alexander let Hephaestion remove the rest of their clothing, which took him seconds it seemed, and then they were back to rediscovering one another. Hephaestion's hands roamed over Alexander's body, starting at his chest, where he established where each muscle was hidden. His hands then sneaked to his thighs, and he began to stroke the taunt skin, where Alexander's strength was. Even though he was only touching his thighs, Alexander felt angelic pleasure, his back arching slightly. He returned Hephaestion's favors, taking his hand and gently sucking on his fingers, knowingly blowing warm air against Hephaestion's hands as he tormented him.

When Hephaestion placed his hand on the backside of his knee, Alexander knew what would happen next. He shifted, making room for Hephaestion, who pulled Alexander's legs around him. Now fully erect, Hephaestion brushed against Alexander, driving him mad, this time without meaning to. He leaned over Alexander, kissing him passionately as he entered him. Each time he was delicate, as if Alexander needed his protecting, and Alexander placed his hands on Hephaestion's hips, instantly pulling him forward, unperturbed about any possible pain. Hephaestion started the rhythm, slow at first, but Alexander craved something more, which Hephaestion was willing to give. Sweat began to bead upon their skin, but neither minded. Hephaestion licked Alexander's neck, suckling the vein at his throat, and reached down with a free hand, taking Alexander's manhood in his hand. He stroked Alexander, bringing him close, but not fulfilling him.

Alexander did not mind, he enjoyed their time together, which had been limited over the last month. But still, he knew how to please Hephaestion, how to give him what Hephaestion was holding back from him. As Hephaestion entered him again, he couldn't help but clench against his thrust slightly, and with that Hephaestion reached full orgasm. Hephaestion growled deep in his throat, letting out a breath, and trembled over Alexander, his hand bringing Alexander quickly to the same pleasure. Alexander did not give him a chance to move, but rather, he pulled Hephaestion against him, enjoying the feeling of Hephaestion's muscled chest against him.

"I hate when you do that," Hephaestion breathed against his cheek.

"No you don't," Alexander laughed, and while he did so Hephaestion rolled off of him. He stared up at the ceiling, which was decorated with a large mirror. Alexander smiled as well, but for a different reason. Unlike Hephaestion, who was just interested in the metalworking, Alexander liked the practical use.

"I need to take care of something," Hephaestion reminded Alexander, and after a moment he stood and dressed. Alexander watched him, propping himself up on an elbow, but said nothing. The disappointment was clearly written on his face, however. Hephaestion noted it, but figured if Alexander said nothing, there was nothing to say back.

"Hephaestion," Alexander exclaimed, just as he was reaching the door. Hephaestion pivoted, awaiting Alexander's further words. "Nothing has changed between us, has it, since I have become king?"

"I'm only yours," he replied, and Alexander nodded. His soft smile betrayed him, for inside, his stomach was in knots and he felt as if he'd been stabbed in the heart. Why would Hephaestion leave him so quickly? What was he not saying, the secret that he tried to contain behind his eyes. Alexander sighed as he leaned back against the pillows. Perhaps it was nothing, nothing more than his imagination.

A/N: Cliffhanger? I know, a bit. Review, and I'll see you soon!


	6. The General

**Title**: "The General"

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: T for Teen

**Chapter**: 6, "The General"

**Pairings**: Alexander/Hephaestion

**Summary**: Hephaestion has followed Alexander across the world, but when reality sets in, he watches Alexander rise to become the greatest king of all. While Hephaestion worries of where his place in Alexander's heart lies, Alexander watches as Hephaestion becomes his greatest general, but more importantly, the only one in his heart.

**A/N**: Sorry for the evil cliff there everyone. But, alas, here is the next chapter!

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Hephaestion listened to the door shut behind him, and it matched the pang of his heart hitting against his chest. How could he possibly be doing this, he wondered again, as the darkness of the setting sun began to creep into the hallways. Stopping, he watched the pinks and purples blend together, the sun being swallowed by the mouth of Mother Earth. It was truly an awe-inspiring moment, but one that he knew he did not have time for. Wrapping a hand around the scroll at his side he let out a sigh, and then made his way down the hall. It hurt, to leave Alexander after the tender moments they had just shared, but for some time it had been so. A kiss here, a brush of skin there, and then once more they were separated on the campaign, one a king, one a general, but neither ever completely together. It was a derisory excuse though, that it had been so and would therefore remain forever so. It had been scarce between them, but had he not left him, had he not stepped into the hallway, had duty not called to him, he would have made things right. The rift that had forced them apart could have been mended, but he was truly the one that let it slip away.

He turned, entering a now darkened courtyard, and followed the pathway until it lead to a man-made jungle. Hesitantly, he stepped over the bounds and entered, following the path until it ended, and only broken bushes made by either man or animal led the way. Continuing, he ended up at the base of a group of large trees, which held dark red fruit, and he turned at the snapping of a vine. Haraa then emerged, his chest bare, wearing only a dark pair of slacks, his hair hanging over his shoulders. His mouth was tensed, as if angry, but Hephaestion would have none of his snide attitude, not today, not after the guilt of abandoning Alexander had set in. It was growing cold outside; he wondered if the palace was so cold, if Alexander was cold, if he longed for his touch as he did his.

"You received the dispatch then," Haraa asked inquisitively. Hephaestion dangled the scroll in the air for a moment before withdrawing his hand. He was not about to let Haraa take the message –it concerned him, perhaps, but Hephaestion knew that it concerned Alexander in the most part. Haraa seemed displeased, but what was he going to say? The letter was specifically to be given to Alexander, but if Hephaestion was found with it there would be no question. On the other hand, if Haraa was caught with it, it would be treason, and he could be put to death if Alexander saw fit.

"You seem to forget that this is not your dilemma anymore," Hephaestion said, securing the parchment back at his side. He should not have been so short with Haraa, it was, after all, not entirely his fault that Hephaestion had left Alexander. He could have seen to this in the morning, if he wanted, but now would be better. This would all be better the quicker it was over with, and the faster it was accomplished, the less he would have to fear of Alexander finding out exactly what he was doing. Bjelk appeared next, and as he entered the clearing Hephaestion unrolled the note and began reading aloud, so that they were all aware of the situation.

"Noble Alexander," Hephaestion read, glancing up between words in order to watch the two Egyptians. "My dear son, Amune, has followed you to your battle against King Darius. In this I am displeased, first because he is my only heir, and secondly, you allow a prince to fight your wars. Send forth my son immediately, Noble Alexander, and still you will have a satrap in Alexandria. Yet, send him not, then the city is mine, and this time, I make it vowed, you'll not best me."

There was silence amongst them, and Hephaestion knew that the other two were not willing to speak first. Perhaps Amune had been a fool to have followed Alexander, but Hephaestion could see well enough why he would have. He too followed Alexander across the deserts, and he would do so again, if only he was asked to do so. Rolling the parchment again, sliding it in the belt at his side, his crossed his arms over his chest. Alexander did not need to know that Amune was royal, for if he did, he would surely blame himself for letting him come. But worse, he would also not send back to the father that his son was dead, and that was it. Instead he would start a feud, because he would not see the pain of a father. Instead, he would see a satrap challenging his king, and if the king were Alexander, this simply could not be done.

"I assume he left no word because his father would force him to stay," Hephaestion said aloud, drawing the attention of the others, who stared at the ground. "Alexander knows nothing of this. Had the letter come to him asking for information on Amune, he would give it gladly. Yet your fallen king challenges Alexander, and what am I to do? If I give this to him, a war begins again. If I keep it from him, the three of us must solve this, and soon, before more word, or worse, a legion, comes knocking upon the Babylonian gates."

"And what would you suggest us to do," asked Haraa. "Are you such a fool you think we can bring Amune back from death? What stories do they tell you boy-loving Athenians?"

"Because I understand your loss," Hephaestion hissed back, "I will forgive you for your insults. But, Haraa, demean me again, and you'll regret it."

"There should be no quarrel between us," Bjelk interjected. Hephaestion knew he was right, and he suspected that Haraa knew the same. They would solve nothing quarrelling, and he had not come to do such. He drew in a breath, to which Haraa looked away, and then spoke again, his voice calm.

"I will send a message back," he announced, "in Alexander's hand. It will be sufficient for a moment's time, but a grieving father does not hold back for long, not with only one son to succeed him. You both must return to Alexandria, and tell the king what happened. But word must not get back to Alexander. He is too bold to have accusations coming from an honorary satrap. Do you understand?"

Bjelk understood, and showed this by nodding. He then bowed his head slightly and went, leaving almost as silently as he had come. Haraa remained, his eyes finally catching Hephaestion's. Silence lingered between them before Haraa spoke, his voice soft, but his meaning edged with glass. Hephaestion knew that look of concern, the pain, the joy, the temptation, everything relying on another, making another your entire life –Haraa mirrored him.

"When you love a leader," Haraa told him, "you will never be a leader. You shall always be Alexander's shadow, Hephaestion, if you give your heart to him."

"I would be his shadow, a step behind him, if it meant only I could be near him. I would be his shadow, walking in his footsteps, as long as I was but to follow him. I do not wish to be a leader; I wish only to be in his heart."

"It is a shame," Haraa replied, "for truth be told, you are the king, and he should be your shadow."

Hephaestion would have replied, but no words came. Haraa would not wait for them either, he bowed slightly too and then turned, leaving Hephaestion to stand alone. Hephaestion looked around the clearing for a moment, taking in the sight, the smell. It would be nice, he thought, to bring Alexander here. It would be a chance to be alone, perhaps, but no one could ever be sure –many sought Alexander out, at all times, leaving them always dangerously close to being discovered in their most intimate moments. Drawing in a breath of the cool night air, the sun now gone, replaced by stars, he made his way back to the palace. He wished he could have been back in Alexander's arms before night fell, but he had done what he could. Secretly he wondered why Darius had made the faux jungle so far away from his palace.

When he entered the hallway it had changed entirely. Illuminating candles were hung on the walls, bringing golden light to golden rooms. Hephaestion was in the process of walking, while staring at the pictures painted on the walls, when he felt hands on his shoulders. He was spun around forcefully, and when his back hit the wall he lifted a hand, ready to combat his attacker. However, no attacker faced him. Instead, it was Alexander, who, upon closer inspection, might as well have been a furious attacked.

"Where were you," Alexander asked, kissing Alexander sloppily in the process. Clearly the wine was already being poured in the feasting rooms. As Alexander attempted to step back, he almost fell, catching one foot on the other. Hephaestion smirked, and then wrapped an arm around Alexander's waist to keep him balanced. It was odd, for when he had been drinking heavily, the only thing that seemed to remain balanced was the cup in hand. Tonight was no different, the wine remained in the cup, even as Alexander tripped on nothingness.

"Cassander must be pouring tonight," Hephaestion said under his breath, leading Alexander down the hallway. They reached Hephaestion's room quick enough, and Hephaestion pushed the door open. He'd not seen the room, but was not surprised when it looked almost as grand as Alexander's. Someone had already brought in candles, which lit the room perfectly, not too dim, but perfect for the headache Alexander would soon have.

Hephaestion set Alexander on the edge of the bed, stretching his shoulder as he straightened himself, and then began looking for water. He found this too, and poured cool water from a pitcher into a wooden cup. Tasting it first, he then offered the cup to Alexander, but he refused. It was not the first time he had tended to him, and he knew what to do. Placing the edge of the cup against his lower lip, Hephaestion then placed his hand on Alexander's forehead, tilting it back, and Alexander opened his mouth before the water had a chance to spill over his face. How he had learned this trick, he could not remember, but it had never failed him since. Just before Alexander was about to cough Hephaestion removed the cup. He placed a soft kiss to Alexander's forehead, and then began pulling the blankets away from the bed.

"It's too early to sleep," Alexander stated, lisping slightly. Hephaestion smiled, but not so as Alexander could see. Instead he finished preparing the bed, and then knelt down before Alexander, kissing his knee as he began removing his grieves. Alexander lay back, allowing Hephaestion to finish, and when done he rose, placing his hands on both sides of Alexander, placing their foreheads together.

"You need rest," Hephaestion told him, keeping his voice soft, almost a whisper, and while others would have scolded, he merely offered Alexander confidence. Alexander tilted his head up, placing another kiss to his lips. He tasted of wine, but Hephaestion didn't mind so much tonight; to be kissed was better than not to be kissed.

"No," Alexander fought, trying to use a commanding voice, but it still came off almost childish. "Make love to me, Hephaestion. Let us make love until the sun comes up, and then, we'll charge the mountains, and find Darius, taking the kingdom from him."

"We will," Hephaestion laughed. "But first, I think we should rest. How will we storm the mountains if we're both tired?"

"Phae," Alexander whispered. Before he could finish Hephaestion had already reached for the copper pail at the side of the bed. He lifted it in perfect timing, just before Alexander wretched. As he rid himself of the nights festivities, Hephaestion pushed his hair away from his face, placing whispered kissed against his forehead. The pail was then set down and Hephaestion lifted Alexander slightly in his arms, pulling the covers over him as he set him down. Moaning slightly, the headache approaching, Alexander reached up, placing his hands over his eyes. Hephaestion took his wrists and pulled his arms away, smiling down at him. He would need more water when his stomach settled, but for now he only needed reassurance.

"Are you falling out of love with me," Alexander asked, staring up at him, his vision clearing, as if he'd not touched a drop of wine. Hephaestion placed a hand on Alexander's forehead, insuring that he continued to look at him, and then replied, wondering once again where this was coming from.

"There is only room for you in my heart Alexander," he said breathlessly. "Why are you worrying over this suddenly? Alexander, look at me, what is it?"

"You're hiding from me," Alexander murmured, closing his eyes, but he could still listen.

"I hide only what will protect you, Alexander," Hephaestion continued, lying above the blankets next to Alexander. He placed his head on Alexander's chest, listening to his breathing, and played with his fingers, entwining their hands together and then separating them. "Amune is not your concern, my love. You cannot know, not yet, for you are all too willing to conquer any opposition, and to return now would be a subtle defeat. Darius would return…it would be as if Alexander never set foot in Asia."

"Hephaestion," Alexander whimpered in his sleep, reaching out with a hand. Hephaestion took his hand, holding it tightly in his own, and placed a kiss to his neck. He then closed his eyes, and fell asleep, drifting away with the sound of Alexander's beating heart comforting. _Tomorrow_, he assured himself before he was completely enamored in sleep, _I will tell him._


	7. The Greatest

**Title**: "The General"

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: T for Teen

**Chapter**: 7, "The Greatest"

**Pairings**: Alexander/Hephaestion

**Summary**: Hephaestion has followed Alexander across the world, but when reality sets in, he watches Alexander rise to become the greatest king of all. While Hephaestion worries of where his place in Alexander's heart lies, Alexander watches as Hephaestion becomes his greatest general, but more importantly, the only one in his heart.

**A/N**: No one panic, everything will be fine between Alexander and Hephaestion. Come on, would I do that to you? But seriously, it gets worse before it gets better, in every relationship.

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The moment he woke the world spun, his head feeling as if it had been split in two by a Persian axe. Reaching up he placed a hand over his eyes and let out a soft moan of complaint, his body feeling stiff, his limbs numb. As he pushed himself up in bed he looked around the darkened room. The drapes had been tied shut with their respective cords, and a tray of food and a cup of water, conveniently placed next to a wash basin. Alexander smiled slightly, aware that only Hephaestion would have taken such care of him. Drawing in a breath, he tossed his feet over the edge of the bed and cradled his head in his hands. Before he was able to reach for the water he heard the door open, and when he looked up Hephaestion was present, clad in a Persian robe, his golden chest exposed, black Persian slacks hugging him perfectly as he padded across the room. He reached down, taking the cup, and then held it before Alexander. Nothing was said, but their words were loud enough. Hephaestion placed one hand on Alexander's knee, the other on the bed, and waited for him to drain the contents of the cup. Upon doing so, Alexander let the cup fall onto the bed, and then let his forehead rest against Hephaestion's. He would always be his strength, but his weakness, his love, his pain, everything and nothing, all at the same time. Alexander knew well enough what had happened on the previous night, knew that he had continued to drain goblet after goblet of wine, only so that he could push the thoughts of Hephaestion's possible betrayal out of mind. He could also recall seeing him in the hall, coming from the courtyard, coming from where the handsome Egyptian had just been, and his beliefs became all too real. He'd panicked, acted foolish, and possibly vomited on Hephaestion sometime in the night. Judging by the dampness of Hephaestion's hair, perhaps he had, or perchance Hephaestion had come back from bathing with whoever it was he loved now. Whoever this man was, he was lucky, for a man like Hephaestion could not be replaced. Just thinking about it now drove him crazy. Yet the pain in his head would not allow for him to think too much on it, or to act, for if he had, he would have vomited once more, he was sure.

"What came between us, I wonder," Alexander beckoned, placing his hands on Hephaestion's cheeks so that he could stare into his eyes. Hephaestion did not resist, but behind cerulean eyes Alexander could see the pain, the mental slap across the face. "I only wanted to love you, Hephaestion, not push you further away from me. When we left, did I not ask you to stay behind, to take care of my mother, of Pella, of Macedonia? But because you love me I know that you came. Have I done wrong by you, by staying away, should I have been…Hephaestion…what should I have done to please you? And if you were so unhappy why did you not tell me, why did you have to go to him, to this other? Do you love him Hephaestion; is there something that he gives you that I cannot?"

"Alexander," Hephaestion interrupted, cutting Alexander off in the middle of his thoughts. "I've been acting strangely, I know, but it is not what your mind has made it. I swear to you Alexander, my heart is only yours, and forever will be. Alexander, look at me, I will tell you, but you have to be calm. Can you do that for me?"

Alexander's mind went blank as he listened to Hephaestion's interjection. He did not care what it was that had caused him to act strangely, as long as he was not in love with another. He was still his, and that was all that mattered. He reached out, this time cutting Hephaestion off, passionately kissing him, drawing him near, uncaring of what Hephaestion's confession was. It was selfish, he knew, but still he could not contain his excitement, his sheer pleasure, that Hephaestion was his and his alone. The kiss ending, Hephaestion reached back, taking a rolled scroll of papyrus, and handed it to Alexander. Alexander unrolled it with care and then scanned over the words. He soon stopped and reread the letter, unsure of what the author meant. Glancing up, Hephaestion placed a hand over Alexander's wrist, and explained in short detail. He took it all in, and when Hephaestion finished speaking he nodded, tossing the scroll down onto the floor. He then stood, and Hephaestion remained momentarily crouched on the ground. He ran a hand through his hair before standing, hoping that Alexander was not too angry with him, but he could tell as the king paced the room that he was livid. Yet it was not Hephaestion he was mad at, but as predicted the satrap of Alexandria.

"You're angry with me?"

"You should have told me," Alexander insisted, pacing back and forth, his headache covered over by rage. He cursed under his breath and then paced slower, his mind working. "His father is right, I should have known. But I'll be damned if he thinks he can speak down to me because his son fell in battle."

"That's why I felt it would be better not to tell you," Hephaestion said with a sigh. He went from standing to sitting, staring up at Alexander, unsure of what to say next. Drawing in a breath, he then went on, keeping his voice steady. "He is a father, Alexander, not an enemy. How foolish would it be for you to storm out of this room and tell the others that you want to turn back to Egypt?"

"And should I leave a man in charge of Alexandria that would be my undoing? He could regain the city, Hephaestion, is that better?"

"Lenience is an attribute few heave," the Athenian within Hephaestion spoke. Alexander stopped pacing and turned to look at him. He knew that Hephaestion was right, but admitting it was always hard. After nodding continuously he came back to the bed, where he sat next to Hephaestion. Turning his eyes to meet those of his lover's, he wondered when Hephaestion had become his protector, his most esteemed general. Perhaps for the first time he was realizing how important Hephaestion was, how sane he kept him in times like these, how perfect he was for taking so much responsibility upon himself. As he placed a hand on Hephaestion's thigh there was a knock at the door. Hephaestion glanced up and slowly stood, giving time for Alexander to make himself less seen, hiding behind a drape. As Hephaestion opened the door Cassander brushed past him, entering the room uninvited, but he did not seem to care.

"There is a problem in Pella," Cassander explained as he kicked the door shut behind him. Without any hesitance he then poured himself a cup of water and drank deeply from it. Setting the cup down he went on, unaware that Alexander was listening to the entire conversation.

"Alexander's allies begin to question his motives to enter Persia, and so quickly," Cassander began, unaware of Alexander's ever lingered presence. Before he could stop him, Cassander went on. "Already they press Olympias to send him word, to ask him back, but she will not. She is in danger if…"

Hephaestion lowered the finger he had put to his lips, and then spoke. "We'll speak of this later Cassander, for your worries are my own. I'll speak with Alexander tonight."

"Perhaps I am just worrying," Cassander agree, his eyes glancing over to the hanging drapes. He then set the cup down and exited the room, saying nothing more. Hephaestion continued to stare at the door, even as Alexander stepped away from hiding. He did not wish to see the look of distrust on Alexander's face, the look of sheer pain, as if Hephaestion had wanted all to confide in him. But he looked anyway, and as he'd expected, Alexander said nothing to him. Instead he brushed past him, bumping his shoulder hard as he did so, and exited, slamming the door behind him. Nothing was spoken between them, nothing but looks of worry and distrust.

"Alexander," Hephaestion called out as he stepped into the hallway. Alexander did not slow, perhaps did not even care to hear him. Instead, he turned the corner, and was out of sight. Cursing Hephaestion turned, punching the wall with a fist, and then leaned against the wall. He wanted to scream, wanted to curse, wanted to cry, wanted even to erase the last few days. He could only assume that now Alexander was sitting in his own chambers, speculating about his motives. He must wonder why he'd loved him, only to have betrayed him, to become the confidant of Egyptians, Cassander, and only Zeus knew who else. Hephaestion pushed away from the wall. Alexander could not think such things, but if he was, he needed to make amends. Yet when he came to the king's doors they were barred by guards, both of which spoke only heavy Persian, and clearly had been told to let no one in –and by no one, this included for the first time Hephaestion. Turning, he left.

On the other side of the door Alexander listened until his footfalls subsided, and he then let out the breath he'd been holding in. Pivoting, he then entered the center of his rooms, throwing himself down on the lavish pillows that decorated his bed. In spite of trying to think of something else, anything else, he still felt his heart tugging at his mind. He'd overreacted. Hephaestion could not, would not, betray him. It was not in his character, and even had it been, he would not do something so damaging to the one he loved. It was a mistake, but how far Hephaestion's mistakes ran he did not know. It was simple in the mind of a king: there was but one king, Alexander, and no other could do biding without his knowledge, especially if it concerned him or his kingdom. On the contrary, the mind of a friend, a lover, was much more forgiving: he protects you still, as always, and he loves you still, as he shall forever.

"A letter," a voice said, causing Alexander to jolt in the bed. As he sat up he recognized Bagoas, the eunuch he had been introduced to in the harem. The youth bowed and then handed him a folded piece of parchment, bearing the royal seal of Pella. Then, as silently and swiftly as he had entered the room, he left, once again through a secret door. Alexander watched him go, wondering how many other knew of the passage, and if it should be blocked. He decided to fret over it later, and instead broke the wax seal, opening the letter. It was from his mother, in response to a letter that he knew well enough he had not sent her, but rather Hephaestion had. Hephaestion had long ago learned to write in Alexander's hand, pushing the words too close together, sloppily forming words, slanting them to the right –nothing like his own beautiful writing, in which each letter was properly spaced from one another, each line perfect, each sentence having clear and perfect meaning, placed exactly where Hephaestion had wanted it. Frowning, not from the letter, but for his action, he read the letter.

_Alexander, your letter soothes me, though I know that you shield me from the truths of your ventures. Do you think I, having been married to Philip, do not know the dangers of war? I know the eve of battle, waiting, staring out at the horizon, praying that a man in my life will return home. I know it well, and for you, my son, I stood for hours, until my legs gave way and my ladies took me to bed. Yes, I know battle, Alexander, but not as you do. For whom you kill in battle dies, never to return, but perhaps you too have died in a bloody battle, my Alexander, for even living you do not return home. _

_You travel onward, to Babylon by now, I have no doubt. Yet time and time again I warn you, do not forget your home. Already they grow restless, those left behind, wondering, hoping secretly, that you will fall in battle. They want this kingdom, Alexander, not one across the world from them, full of barbarians that cannot be tamed. Be weary, Alexander, I warn you. Do not leave me here, let me join you where you are, where I am safe. Battles rage where you are, but here, neglected, I am in a battle of my own, one that wields not weapons, but words, tricks of the mind, and while I hold my ground now, I cannot do it forever. _

_Those around you do not care for you as I do, Alexander. They do not know you as I do. They will try to get into your head, trick you so that you are against me, against yourself, and they will try to bend you to their will. You are wise, yes, but together serpents can kill even the mightiest of eagles. Do not listen to their words, their frets about Pella, listen to nothing. If you send word, I will tell you the state of Pella, and you must find one in your new lands that can be honest in the same. _

_My words are your only armor now, my son, but armor stretched too thin will not protect you. Hephaestion guards you now, guards you for me as much as he does for himself. He sends word to his sister, and like a fool she tells him everything that goes on in Pella, everything. In fact, she is wed now to the general that would pray your death come soon, so he can ascend the throne. He is wise, Alexander, to be so bold, gaining knowledge on such a man. For you bidding, yes, but should he be caught, he will be the one to die, not you. Never would his work be traced to you. I warn Hephaestion too, be careful, for giving your life for one who does not even understand the extent of your love is unwise. _

_Yes, I write to you both. Did you not think I knew how Hephaestion pleads with you to write me? I know you, my little Achilles, who is too powerful to wield a pen and send word to his mother. Tell Hephaestion while his penmanship is remarkable, only he would perfectly center a seal, unlike you, who would not even bother. Yet I know this letter will reach you before it falls into his hands, and perhaps you shall read it. Otherwise, my dear Hephaestion, who loves and protects my son even should it cost him his life, please give my concerns to Alexander, and know that I will forever be in your debt for you protection. You love him now, Hephaestion, as I love him, purely. _

Alexander crumpled the letter as a sudden stream of tears slid down his cheeks. He then regretted crushing the letter so and picked it up, carefully removing the creases. Placing it against his chest he lay back, thinking of Hephaestion. What a fool he had been. Hephaestion loved him, and was only doing what any extraordinary general would do; to respect the wishes of his men, even if it meant burying a soldier without the king's knowledge. Yet he also did what any friend would do, to take the burden upon himself rather than pile more upon the shoulder's of his best friend. And most importantly, he did what a lover would do. He protected Alexander, nurtured him, did for him what was a wise decision would Alexander would not be able to make one. He was utterly perfect.

While he made his way to Hephaestion's room, Hephaestion was reading his own letter, also from Olympias. It fell from his hand before Alexander entered. Hephaestion did not look up as the door opened, or as Alexander entered, and when he knelt before him he did not even speak. Instead he was silent, tears burning in his eyes. Alexander noted the parchment on the ground, and reached for it, picking it up. He immediately recognized his mother's handwriting, and the words struck him as they had Hephaestion.

_Hephaestion, it comes with a heavy burden that I must tell you this. Be it known that it is not my place to give you such information, and that I would not if it were not of such importance. I would spare your heart this burden if I could. I would keep the burden for you, stored away in my own heart, until your return, but I am not sure when that will be. My cherished defender, your sister, fallen into the hands of a haggard husband, has been murdered. Your mother, upon hearing, has taken her own life. _

_There is nothing that I can say to make the situation better. But know that this loss is not your fault. Your sister died with your secrets, and your correspondence has been burned, I made sure of it. Soothe your troubles, Hephaestion, do not let them fester in the wound and weaken you. _

"Hephaestion," Alexander said immediately, reaching out and placing his hand in his, holding it tightly, giving him warmth where he had gone cold. "Hephaestion, oh my poor, poor, Hephaestion."

"She's dead," Hephaestion whispered. He blinked then, meeting Alexander's gaze, and then repeated his words again, almost questioning himself as he did so. "She's dead…they're both dead."

What could Alexander say to calm him? His mother was right, there were no words to cease grieving. They were his only family, his mother and his sister, and even in such a case that was not much. For years he had accompanied Alexander, wherever that might be, staying with him instead of tending to his remaining family. He should release his tears, grieve, but he did not seem willing. Hephaestion seemed to stop his grieving before it began, taking in a breath and then running his hand over his eyes, without a single tear falling.

"I can explain myself," Hephaestion then said, ignoring the pain he felt inside. "I didn't tell you about Amune because I didn't want you deny him the burial of his culture…"

"I know why you did it," Alexander insisted, placing a hand against Hephaestion's cheek. "You did it to keep me from doing something rash," he said, placing a kiss lightly against Hephaestion's forehead. "You did it in order to protect the empire," he uttered, kissing a cheek, then moving to the other. "You do everything for me, Hephaestion."

"I should not be so bold."

"No, you are wrong, for you are not bold. You too are Alexander."

"There is but one king, Alexander, the Great. It is you who should decide what to do, not I. I should not be Cassander's confident when Pella is concerned, for I am a general, not a king. I forget my place."

"You are my chiliarch. There is no position I would rather award to you, but even that, I fear, is not enough. Hephaestion, forgive me for ever believing that you were at my side for anything but to love me."

"I failed to notice," Hephaestion said, covering the lie with a soft smile, kissing Alexander while wrapping his arms around him. Moments later, they lay in one another's arms, all worries from the past days gone.

"You are the greatest general," Alexander whispered against Hephaestion's shoulder when he was sure he'd fallen asleep. Studying him in the afternoon light, the setting sun gleaming against his golden skin, he smiled. "You shall remain at my side, forever in history, my dearest Hephaestion."

ENFIN.


End file.
